


Although It’s Been Said Many Times, Many Ways, Merry Christmas To You

by noxlunate



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Don't Judge Me, I misspelled some tags but I promise the spelling in the actual fic is better okay?, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Set In Some Handwavey Post Civil War Time, Soft Stucky Week 2016, literally so cheesey and cliche, long fic title because I've always secretly wanted to be Fall Out Boy, no substance here just fluff, there's even misteltoe okay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 08:56:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8884798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxlunate/pseuds/noxlunate
Summary: “I’m not going for perfect.” Steve frowns between the ornament options. Why are there so many damn options for Christmas ornaments? This should be simple. But no, Target (because that’s where Sam says normal people shop) has at least 6 aisles dedicated purely to Christmas decorations.
Sam, as usual, sees straight through Steve. 
“I think that’s what you’re going for. I definitely get the feeling that perfect’s what you’re going for.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt _"it’s our first Christmas together since 1944 and i don’t want it to be anything less than perfect"_ that I got from [here!](http://iamnotsebastianstan.tumblr.com/post/152389241255/so-someone-asked-earlier-if-i-could-post-some)
> 
> basically just a bit of Christmas fluff. Enjoy your fluff with a side of fluff and an extra helping of fluff.

Everything  _ has  _ to be  _ perfect.  _

“Steve, man, it doesn’t have to be perfect. It’s just Christmas.” Sam says, apparently reading Steve’s thoughts as he watches Steve try to decide between boxes of ornaments with a bemused expression. 

“I’m not going for perfect.” Steve frowns between the ornament options. Why are there so many damn options for  _ Christmas ornaments?  _ This should be  _ simple.  _ But no, Target (because that’s where Sam says  _ normal  _ people shop) has at least 6 aisles dedicated purely to Christmas decorations.

Sam, as usual, sees straight through Steve. 

“I think that’s what you’re going for. I definitely get the feeling that perfect’s what you’re going for.”

“I’m  _ not.”  _ Steve insists and picks up a box of ornaments in cheerful colors that he thinks Bucky might like. “It’s just- It’s our first Christmas since 1944. Hell, it’s his first Christmas altogether since then. I want it to be nice.” 

“Then get him to help you with all this shit instead of staring at Christmas decorations like everything’ll explode if you pick the wrong ones. I’m sure Barnes has an opinion on Christmas ornaments. It’s my experience that people are meant to do this stuff together anyways.” 

“That’s… Actually a really good idea.” Of course it is. Sam seems to be right around 95% of the time, and giving Bucky a choice about things is  _ always  _ better than giving him none. 

“Of course it is. I came up with it.” 

 

——

Two days later Steve drags Bucky to Target with him. Not that it actually involves dragging, more Steve says “hey, let’s go shopping for Christmas decorations.” and Bucky agrees without question. 

When Bucky sees the Starbucks just inside the store he refuses to proceed the rest of the way until he has a Venti Peppermint Mocha Frappuccino in his hand. Then, once he has his glorified milkshake and a tiny bag with cake pops they end up spending a solid 15 minutes in the bargain section of the store. There’s eight packages of stickers, three holiday themed pie pans, four packages of glitter, a fuzzy Christmas patterned blanket, and a bright pink miniature Christmas tree in their cart before they can proceed. 

“So you’ve been in the future for a few years now?” Bucky asks, slurps obnoxiously at his Starbucks and bumps his shoulder into Steve’s while they walk. 

“Yeah, why?” Steve feels a little like he’s being led into a trap somehow. It’s a sinking feeling that only gets worse when Bucky makes a humming noise like he’s thinking. 

“Why then, are you just now buying Christmas stuff?” 

“I…” Steve is trapped. Steve knows he’s trapped because Bucky’s looking at him with an expression like he  _ knows  _ why Steve is just now buying Christmas stuff. Like he knows that it’s because Steve’s spent the past Christmases being miserable, wallowing on his couch in his pajamas with take out and Turner Classic Movies. 

“Steve…” There’s a note of concern in that one word, and Steve knows Bucky’s face, knows the misplaced guilt in his expression when he sees it and it makes Steve want to rush to reassure that he’s been okay, that none of this is Bucky’s fault. 

“I’m fine.” Steve says with as much sincerity as he can muster. “C’mon, Buck, seriously, it’s not a big deal. It’s just Christmas.” 

“I’m fine, he says.” Bucky mutters, shaking his head at Steve and Steve is amazed that over 70 years can pass, Steve can become a scientific miracle and Bucky can go through hell and yet he still sounds like he did in the 30s, bitching about how Steve was gonna get himself killed one of these days. “You’d say you were fine as they were loading you into your coffin Rogers.” 

“And you’d be complaining about it then too.” Steve grumbles, cuffing Bucky upside the head and earning himself a shove back. 

“Nah, I’d be rejoicing not having to deal with your stubborn ass anymore.” 

“Asshole.” Steve shakes his head at his friend before turning his attention to the huge array of Christmas decorations before them. “C’mon, pick some damn ornaments.”

“Jesus, how many options do people _need?_ I mean, I definitely remember decorating the tree growing up, but I’m pretty sure there wasn’t this many choices at Woolworth’s.” Bucky says, even as he grabs for the same set of brightly colored ornaments that Steve had thought of getting for him a couple days ago. Steve mentally pats himself on the back for the fact that he’d have gotten at least something right if he’d gone through with doing it all himself. 

“Trust me, I asked the same thing.” Steve says, happy to watch Bucky go through all the options and pick out two more small boxes of ornaments. There’s a weird, sort of  _ settled  _ feeling that comes from having someone to gripe about these things with. 

“Think that’s enough ornaments?” Bucky cocks his head, looking into the cart at the three boxes of ornaments he’s picked out so far. 

“I don’t see why not.” Steve shrugs, mostly content to let Bucky have the reigns when it comes to this, even if it had originally been Steve’s idea. 

“Alright. Let’s go see what else the 21st century has to offer us in decorations then, huh?” Bucky says as he loops an arm around Steve’s shoulders and steers him onto the next aisle

 

——

 

Nat drops by with Christmas sweaters for the both of them. 

She looks like she’s secretly enjoying a great joke until Bucky tugs his on immediately and burrows into the soft fabric. 

“Jokes on you, I love these things.” Bucky says, easy as anything.

“It’s true. He’s bought a million of ‘em already.” Steve says, smiling proudly. Steve’s pretty proud of anything Bucky does, honestly. Sam says it’s sickening. Steve says that the websites he’s looked at say it’s a good thing to be proud and supportive. 

“I feel like I shouldn’t be surprised.” Nat says, curling onto the couch next to Bucky and insinuating herself into the space under his arm. She looks comfortable, dressed in her own Christmas sweater with her hair in the same sort of sloppy bun Bucky seems to favor. It makes Steve’s heart feel like it’s too big to fit in his chest when he gets to see things like this, gets to see his friends- his little found  _ family  _ being happy. 

“My therapist says I should embrace the things in the future that make me happy.” Bucky says with a shrug, and Steve’s smile doesn’t grow at that, okay? It  _ doesn’t.  _ He’s just maybe exceedingly happy that some of the things in the future that make Bucky happy include warm cozy sweaters, and garishly bright colors. 

Steve might (possibly. definitely) have a list of things that make Bucky happy these days. It’s useful for the bad days, of which there are still a lot, but still less than there had been. 

“Mmh, and if only your therapist could convince you to embrace  _ all  _ of the things in the future that make you happy, James.” Nat says like she  _ knows  _ something. Something that Steve is clearly not aware of yet. 

Bucky glares and mutters something in Russian that has Natasha grinning like the cat that caught the canary. Nat says something back in Russian that just makes Bucky glare even harder and earns him a hair ruffle from Natasha. Bucky rolls his eyes and says something that Steve is sure is insulting judging purely by the tone and Bucky’s expression. 

“You guys know I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re saying, right?” Steve asks and Nat turns her smile on him. 

“Learn Russian, Rogers.” 

“And then how would you have secret conversations in front of me?” 

“We’re spies, we’d find a way.” Nat says with a shrug and Steve doesn’t doubt that they would for a second. “Now enough chit-chat, you two have a lot of catching up to do when it comes to Christmas movies.” 

Steve shakes his head at his friend, but settles in as Natasha navigates the overly fancy television with the remote that Steve hadn’t even noticed she’d grabbed. 

 

——

 

Natasha says “Stark’s having a Christmas party. It’s a week before Christmas, so it won’t interfere with your old people plans, and you two are coming.” 

And Bucky says “As long as he doesn’t try to murder me again.” and that’s how Steve somehow ends up stuck in fancy clothes at Tony Stark’s Christmas party. 

Steve glowers at Tony and all his expensive food enough that Bucky elbows him in the stomach and gives him a disapproving look once he catches Steve’s attention. “C’mon, enjoy yourself Steve. You’re not the one he wanted to kill.” 

“ _ Exactly.”  _ Steve says vehemently, because he’s on mostly speaking terms with Tony again, they’re patching things up, but he’s still allowed to have a little bit of anger towards the guy. A little. A teeny amount. It’s nothing excessive. He feels like it’s justified. 

“He apologized. A Stark, Steve,  _ a Stark  _ apologized.” Bucky points out, like it’s a miracle. And okay, it might be, but Steve happens to know it was only after Nat managed to get her hands on records of Bucky’s treatment at the hands of Hydra and forced Tony to look. Steve’s still not sure how okay he is with that either, considering it seems an awful lot like a breach of Bucky’s privacy, but Bucky seems okay with it and Steve tries a lot to accept the things that Bucky deems okay. According to his therapist, giving someone autonomy means accepting all their decisions, even the ones that Steve thinks are a bad idea. 

“I know.” Steve’s not  _ sullen  _ except for how Bucky’s expression makes him think he probably at the least seems like he is. 

“C’mon, I heard Thor brought booze that’ll knock even you on your ass.” He says, tugging Steve away by his wrist. “I still can’t believe you know aliens, Steve.” 

There’s a grin on Bucky’s face that Steve can’t help but return. He lives for the moments in the future that seem to give Bucky a sense of excitement. 

“I still can’t believe it either, honestly.” Steve twists his hand until he can wrap his fingers around Bucky’s and give them a quick squeeze before Bucky’s letting go and grabbing them both large glasses of Asgardian ale. 

“Thor said this is a drink ‘not for mortal men.’” Bucky’s tone goes a little loftier in a frankly terrible imitation of Thor. “I’m guessing that means he doesn’t consider us mortal men.” 

“Would  _ you  _ consider us mortal men?” The words don’t leave Steve’s mouth feeling like the life sentence he once thought they were. Since Bucky came back, since he  _ really  _ came back there’s a weight that’s been lifted off his shoulders when he thinks of the possibility of how much time might stretch in front of him. 

“Well we’re not  _ immortal  _ men.” Bucky says and Steve’s pretty sure he’s doing it mostly to be difficult, but it doesn’t keep the fond smile off his face when Bucky hands him a glass full of Asgardian liquor.  

“I’m glad you’re back.” Steve says, clinking his glass against Bucky’s before he takes a long drink. 

“You’re such a sap Rogers.” 

“What? I’m not allowed to be happy during the holiday season that my best friend came back from the dead?” 

“Nah, ya should be cursing your luck that you got stuck with me again.” He looks at ease, able to joke around with Steve even in a room full of people and god, it makes Steve so happy he thinks he’s going to burst one of these days. 

They’re interrupted by Nat, Sharon on her arm and the both of them all dolled up like they belong in the movies. Steve’s proud of himself for the fact that he’s mostly stopped seeing Peggy every time he looks at Sharon. 

“Boys.” Natasha nods in greeting, lips curved up like she knows something they don’t and she’s going to delight in watching them figure it out. Then she jerks her chin up at something above them. “Mistletoe, even you two fossils should know the rules.” She says before her and Sharon are gone as quickly as they appeared, leaving Steve and Bucky staring up at the plant hanging over their heads. 

“I mean, she didn’t stick around to make sure we went through with it.” Bucky points out. “We could always-“ 

Steve shakes his head and Bucky falls quiet, eyes tracking Steve as he moves in just the tiniest bit closer and lifts a hand to cup Bucky’s cheek. 

Steve can blame the mistletoe for the kiss. Can blame it for the initial brush of his lips against Bucky’s, brief, and chaste, and a little bit dry. He can’t blame it for the fact that he presses back in after that first kiss, or for the way Bucky surges against him and takes it from something soft and sweet into something that Steve would venture into calling  _ making out.  _

Steve’s hands are twisted into Bucky’s hair, Bucky’s hands are rucking up his suit jacket, and Steve is feeling spectacularly short on breath for being the pinnacle of health when a throat clears and breaks them apart.

Steve’s initial urge is to jump back, to put an appropriate distance between himself and Bucky, but Bucky’s hands keep him still and the instinct fades. There’s a glint in Bucky’s eye, a stubborn turn to his mouth when he turns to look at Bruce like he’s daring him to say something negative about what they’ve been up to. Steve knows Doctor Banner better than to think he would, but he knows that Bucky doesn’t. That however well Steve knows these people, Bucky’s still learning them. 

“I probably wouldn’t do that here I were you.” Bruce says and Bucky’s expression turns hard. “Oh, no, I don’t mean anything bad. Just that I wouldn’t trust it in a room with cameras and Tony. He might get a little over the top, throw you two a congratulations party or something in his quest to make amends.” 

“Oh. Okay.” Bucky softens abruptly and drops his hands from Steve’s waist, only to catch Steve’s hand with his right one and lace their fingers together. “C’mon then Steve, take me home so we can finish what we started.” 

“Sorry Bruce.” Steve apologizes, waving as he lets Bucky drag him out of the party. 

 

———

 

Steve wakes up on Christmas morning to an empty bed. It’s not unusual and Steve doesn’t bother worrying yet, just presses his face further into his pillow to breathe in the smell of Bucky’s fancy shampoo and listens to the sounds of the apartment. He can hear the steady  _ drip drip drip  _ of the coffee maker, and the soft sound of Bucky’s breathing in the other room almost undetectable against the sounds of Brooklyn outside. 

Finally he ventures from the bedroom, padding barefoot and tired into the kitchen for coffee and then into the living room to find Bucky. 

Bucky’s cross legged in the window seat, watching the snow fall outside. There’s a blanket draped over his shoulders and his hands are curled around a cup of coffee. He’s lit up by the multicolored strings of lights they’d hung around the window and he looks so damn  _ beautiful  _ that Steve feels an almost physical itch to capture it on paper. 

Instead, he snaps a picture with his phone before crossing the distance and leaning down to brush a kiss to the top of Bucky’s head. 

“Merry Christmas, Buck.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Come yell about fandoms with me on [tumblr!](http://im-notlookingback.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Also, don't forget to check out the softstuckyweek2016 tag for more Soft Stucky!


End file.
